


The Depiction of Moments

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-19
Updated: 2009-01-06
Packaged: 2019-01-19 14:54:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12412458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: And far to the left you'll realize who you've missed and take time to reconsider their motives.





	1. Inconsequential

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

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**A/N:** This is my series of oneshots. 

It was originally just going to be this one chapter

but I had to add more. 

Whomever name I've 

underlined is the speakers.

Enjoy.

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**Inconsequential**

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James Potter

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He remembers the first time he saw her. Actually really saw her. They were fifteen and in Herbology class. It was nearing the end of the year, around late may. It was humid in the greenhouse and his white shirt was sticking to his skin. He glanced over to the high pitched laugh he heard and saw her. Her long hair wet from sweat and her head tilted back in amusement. In a picturesque moment she felt his gaze and her eyes caught his and she smiled at him. Her lips curving upward and he thought, "Wow."

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Oh, and she smells delicious when she's angry. All hot and ripe, heated flesh and dewy skin. Her perfume is light and heavenly, like baby powder and vanilla. It drives him insane. Three months since they've been back in school, and he's barely looked at her. Lily Evans, formerly inconsequential, passing by silently in front of his eyes. And now he finds himself always wondering: does she smells differently in the morning, warm and pliant between his bed sheets. What the skin behind her left knee tastes like. Does she scream? Does she bite? Would she surge and sigh, her just long enough nails raking down his back, even as she breathed harshly in his ear?

Would she leave scars? He hoped so.

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The bell rings and she excuses herself from the table, walking briskly, slipping quickly out of focus. He watches her flee and thinks, no, he shouldn't be thinking, not about these things. Not because they're inappropriate; he has those thoughts all the time. He's a teenage male after all. But he shouldn't be thinking about her, because...

Because he desires her so much.

Yes, he does.

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She has spunk, he has to admit. The way she had Snape coiled and wrapped around her pretty little finger. She plays innocent so well, but she's aware. She's always so very much aware. She toyed with him, dangled a half lidded sideways glance, give a sigh of disapproval and a sad frown. She practiced her newly-discovered powers of persuasion, and he'd follow her helplessly around like an attention-starved little puppy until she kicked him away. Unfortunately, he still follows her around.

With the Remus, she plays little sister, perfecting the art of social anxiety. Appealing to his latent instincts. That's right, Remus Lupin, the big brother. Guard and protect her from the cold, harsh world.

And it's not really the way she looks, but the way she looks at him sometimes, still circling warily, unsure of her role in his universe. That strange mix of suspicion and wanting.

But he stays away. Stays back. He'd break her. And he likes to think he might be an asshole, but he's not that much of one.

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The day he finds her in the potions dungeon, crying over the abuse her sister inflicts, he discovers she's more than sad. She's already been damaged. Those wet, red puffy green eyes. The shaking of her voice. Her pain is a strike lightning to all the dark places in him.

So, over the perfect, bubbling potion, with one hand firmly upon the wooden stool, he slides the other up her back to her neck. He tilts her chin up with his thumb. And when he kisses her, he doesn't feel the tiniest bit of guilt. She does, though, and that's good enough for him.

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And she says inaudible words when he runs his palms up her calves, and when he grips the nook behind her knee. She makes a strange a noise, it's something between a growl and purr, noises of a strange, lewd being, and she's bare and open and luscious. She's drawing clumsy circles on his back, and it's the fucking sexiest thing he's ever felt, and he wants to swallow it whole, her, the way she arches against his mouth. All he can hear is just sounds, sounds, sounds.

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She is an itch just under his skin, the buzz in that space behind his right optic nerve. He hates how she lingers in his mind. With that enthusiasm, soft smile, and unhealthy fascination for things that are so very bad for her.

Him, for example.

And he should really know better. He thinks he should really stop being so childish. Avoidance is never the answer. But he is what he is, and what he is.. childish and jealous. Observing her giggling, biting her lip, fingers clutching her quills. She grazes the stupid jerks hand and he suddenly finds himself scoffing. She catches his eyes and glares. She's terrible with secrets, one in particular.. and he finds that deceptively disarming.

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It only takes one innocent-seeming remark about a bruise on his back to set her off.

"What the hell is your problem?" she snaps, her voice shrill, people around her wincing.

What, indeed. It's been days. Weeks. Months have gone by. He's _so_ pent up. He’s on the verge of begging to touch her.

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He remembers the aftermath. Full of righteous indignation, Lily Evans, who came to thank him for her Christmas gift, who shook and shuddered so hard, she left bruises on his back and her voice ringing in his ears. Marks, but no scars. Not yet.

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She surprises him. She's been doing that a lot, lately. And now she's running from him with that strange, high-pitched giggle, letting him catch her in the end.

Pinning her to a large tree, he lets her feel him flush against her, his hands sliding up and around her waist. When he leans in, he tastes butter beer and sugar quills and laughter, and it makes something unfold, painfully, in his chest. He pulls away and looks into her eyes and he opens his mouth and the words just spill,

"You make my heart ache, Lily Evans."

She lets out a watery laugh. She pulls him close and kisses him hard on the mouth.

Then he knows, he finally realizes how much he affects her as much as she affects him.

**fin.**

 


	2. Reconciliation

  
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**Reconciliation**  
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Severus Snape   


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He always ends up tearing her apart. Even as he spins, turns, and reanalyzes their picture. He replays this scene in his head a thousand different ways. If he'd pretended to be nice. If he'd tried at all.. no. He's not nice. No matter how hard he thinks he can pretend.

Little lies, large truths, and a face that gives it all away. 

But its who he is.

The portrait swinging open is unexpected and the girl coming out of it even more so. He knew this line the one that was always waiting and ready. The one that he was awaiting the day for. Here he was thinking he was worth so much more.

But its who _she_ is.

When he stands up, his defenses break and now he is once again the sobbing, pleading twit. This is when he really becomes Snivellus.

And as she frowns and crosses her arms, he thinks, no. No, please god no. Now he decides god exists. She would be would not be suprised. He remembers the day she told him she believed in god. And he remembers the day she told him she believed in him.

She came to discuss the issues. Him. What he said. Who she is. Where she is going. Who she is bringing and who is being left behind. He's terrified now he knows what the topics are.

This isn't temporary. She isn't returning. But he knows he will.

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It's the span of time between the day she left him and the day she died. But he pushes on, steadily and surely, the thought of reconciliation driving him forward. Tipping the bottle over the mouth of his glass, he counts to five, delivering a generous half. He swallows the first gulp and wishes for the effects to be quick and efficient.

In the quiet, he listens. He hears the boggart in his desk drawer rattle. He grips the glass tighter, annoyance unsettling his nerves, before gulping the rest down. A steady throb increasing in his head.

"I'm going to go," he says, and he laughs. Because there's no one there to tell him otherwise

Hurt. He feels so very hurt and so very young again. He never promised anybody anything before, but finds his stomach churning with fear.

Then he remembers who he's doing this for."

"Dead. But part of her still alive."

He closes his eyes trying to remember hers. His jaw clenches. He looks to the left and pours himself another drink. Hours later, he's lying on the floor and he's still visualizing.

"Alright," he says, "Okay."

And for once he's stopped remembering why he was spiteful.

"For you. Always for you."

**fin.**

 


	3. Always

**Always**

 

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**A/N: This short piece of writing was  
a big challenge for me.  
Please. Be kind.**

 

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Ronald Weasley

 

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He was the 'always' boy. Since he was young. Always the gullible littlest brother. Always the youngest older brother. He was always the friend never the lover. Always, always, always.

 

This was his least favorite word and he can't stand it.

 

He was seventeen. Seventeen. It felt like he had lived forever but not at all. He stares at the ocean and he leans against a rock. Its freezing. His cheeks are bright red and he takes a breath. Exhaling he sees his breath come out look like he's smoking a fag.

 

He closes his eyes and leans back further, tipping his head backwards towards the sky. He hears her voice ringing in his ears. As she ran after him and fell,

 

"You'll come back. You always do. You want me in your life even if you won't admit it. And for some reason even though you make me cry, irritate me, insult me and treat me so, so badly," she took a shuddering breath, wiped away more tears, and continued, "I always forgive you. Even though everyone tells me not to. And I stick by you and I protect you and I defend you. mean so much to me.. and I wish you wouldn't take me for granted so much."

 

He falls to the ground and the realization is clear.

 

He'll always come back. To her. To him. To them. Their his best friends. And she.. 

 

She means the most.

 

He hopes- no he prays she feels the same. 

 

He _always_ does.

 

**fin.**

 

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	4. Indisputable

 

**Indisputable**

 

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**A/N: enjoy.**

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Lily Evans  


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Seeing the true feelings behind someone’s actions is totally unlikely. And irrelevant. At least to James Potter. Maybe behind those fragile shaded eyes of Lily Evans was a soul unrefined and entirely sloppy in exterior. However, how demure Lily Evans might’ve seemed to others he saw right through.

The narrow and twisty path she paved would soon turn straight and wide as he advanced on his short, shallow journey to her heart. Her posture slacked in comparison to the upstart and selectively “pure” blood in the halls of Hogwarts. Soon she was as graceful and demure as a kamikaze pilot ready to take the plunge.

“If you saw how she looked when she saw me. You’d understand.” he would tell his complacent comrades. Typical as though he would have guessed for the reaction to be shocking.

After all hadn’t their eyes locked? Hadn’t her heart stopped and breathing quicken? Had he imagined trying to take a step closer and lean in and pull the trigger?

Tears welled up in her eyes as her composure was shot to hell. Closer now. Closer. Inches apart felt like meters which soon turned into miles. Half-lidded and mixed breath. The smell of chocolate on his breath almost made her insane. He was so close now he could swear he tasted her lips on his but she was away already. On the floor shakily gathering her things. Eyes wide and knees placed on the floor, she had made him so confused.

Hormones were the worst in this situation. Why couldn’t teenage bodies do what they were told? Its time to leave before she loses her composure once again. She says ‘goodbye’ in her shallow tone and outside she feels so sick. Like she could just breakdown any minute. Here in the hallway? For all the tragic fools to see? She hasn’t sunken that low yet!

Oh how wrong she is. For in her mind. James Potter has to be the lowest in the highest place. The best where all there are is the worst. The demon in the complacent Heaven. She can’t keep this up much longer. She doesn’t want to collapse into a twisted world where all she knows is him. His touch. His kiss. His heat. Its so sexual without meaning to be. She decides to skip breathing for a bit.

She can stay a little longer. She can be perfect for just a bit more. However, she isn’t. She has finally admitted to herself. In her mind she knows fantasy doesn’t blend well with reality. He needs to stay away. But the thought in the back of her mind is.

“Is this what I’m reduced to?”

**fin.**

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	5. Sanctuary

 

**Sanctuary**

 

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**A/N: sorry it took so long.**

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Nymphadora Tonks  


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The deadbolt locks into place, it echoes a harsh knock. The sound almost seems mocking. Lifting her head, she catches his shadows near the hallway, she meets his dispassionate gaze. She leans against the one of the walls that surround the entry way of her flat. She hangs her head. The thick dark ringlets she had altered her hair into hang down around her face, forming a curtain, a sanctuary from him.

"I'm not staying, so you can go ahead and unlock the door."

It comes out loud, unintentionally so, but everything sounds louder now. Her head snaps up. Her eyes wide and shocked.

"You made me do this. You took me out. I had to wear this dress and these heels. This robe as well. I hate dressing up."

She's glaring at him. Her outburst had surprised him she could tell. She stares at his lined face, his warm eyes, and his worn appearance.

"You didn't call me a monster. A murderer. Not even a bastard. You didn't say anything," he says, his eyes curious. He turns away from her. She could still feel the cringe he gave at her next words.

"I didn't think I needed to say anything. I thought you finally accepted us. But apparently I was wrong. I thought we found common ground. I thought.. I don't know."

She knows looks so sad when he turns around. She feels so forlorn to think herself without him, and she knows inside he can't stop himself. He doesn't apologize for what he does, he never explains his actions to her anyway. He pushes her up off the ground and against the wall. She wraps her legs around his waist and she's amazed by his strength. She tastes the heat, of the Firewhisky he had back at the restaurant, at the back of his throat. But he's so sure. Everything he does is deliberate, even as he pushes her dress up, and presses his mouth to her neck. She has one more question.

"Tell me I'm wrong."

He closes his eyes, just for a moment.

"You're wrong."

She laughs into his shoulder.

"You don't say no . You never say no . You never tell me to stop."

Their on the floor and her hair fans around her head beautiful. The cold wooden floor against her back the warm color of it a stark contrast to how it really felt. She arches her back at the sensation. She never knew how lost she could feel in this pleasure. The pleasure coiling up her spine. Then a burst of overwhelming bliss and then..

He's lying on her naked chest panting. 

"Let me see your eyes."

She looks down curiously, still out of breath.

"Blue. Electric blue. Wow. Amazing."

"I love you," she whispers, before she drifts off, exhausted.

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She wakes up what seems like several hours late and sees him sitting up slouched over. She touches his back.

"You're wrong," he says, "But I'm tired of pretending. I love you as well."

He glances over at her and she feels the shallow smile on her face and the prick of tears in her eyes. She knows it'll be hard. But loving him was never easy. And although he always runs off, she's always the one to take the first step on the journey back into each others arms. He is her sanctuary.

**fin.**

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End file.
